


Inshallah

by eloquated



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Abusive Relationships, Banned Together Bingo 2020, F/M, Gen, Genetic Engineering, Internalized Victim Blaming, Learning Disabilities, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24131971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloquated/pseuds/eloquated
Summary: Amsha Bashir loved her son more than anything in the world.But nobody ever promised that parenting would be simple.
Relationships: Amsha Bashir & Julian Bashir, Amsha Bashir/Richard Bashir
Comments: 8
Kudos: 60
Collections: Banned Banned Together Bingo 2020, Banned Together Bingo 2020





	Inshallah

**Author's Note:**

> I've had the idea for this fic rattling around in my head for ages, and the Banned Together bingo was the kick in the bum I needed to actually get it written!
> 
> Just a reminder to please heed the tags!
> 
> Written for the square "Accurate Depictions of Ableism".

"This isn't what we planned!"

Richard Bashir was a loud man, and his voice reverberated off the walls like he could defy the truth by sound alone. "Why did you do this? We have plans, and now you've ruined everything! We can't have a baby here, so we have to move. Do you have any idea how much work that's going to be?!"

There was something about her husband in one of his rages (tantrums, she called them, but only in the privacy of her own mind) that seemed to displace all the air in the room. It was hot and claustrophobic, consuming every scrap of oxygen and leaving her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

"I didn't do anything, Richard-- I promise you. These things just happen sometimes! No medicine is perfect all the time!" 

Looking back on it, years later, Amsha supposed that should have been the moment she left. 

Surely Richard would come around, it was just the shock of it all. He was scared-- so was she. But they'd figure it out; all new parents must be scared. Their world was changing, and Richard had never liked change. 

Or surprises.

No, it would be fine. It really would. He'd come to his senses when the shock had worn off.

And a child needed their father, didn't they?

• • •

"Hush hush.. Sweet, my Jules, you're going to wake up the whole neighbourhood."

Sometimes when she looked down at her son, Amsha couldn't believe how small he was. How he curled up his knees to his chest when he slept; his soft, pink mouth forever smacking and sucking, while he dreamed about whatever babies dreamed of. 

He was the most beautiful child she had ever seen, and she never tired of smoothing her fingers across his generous head of baby-fine black curls. Her son, _her son_ , what wonderful words! Her son was perfect. 

"There, you see? Nothing to cry for. Mama's right here." 

It always felt like some kind of miracle when he calmed for her. With careful hands, Amsha lifted her little boy from his bassinet and cradled him against her breast, rocking them both slowly. He never cried when she held him; nestled against the familiar cadence of her heart, she thought he must feel safe.

Jules snuffled against her chest, and his tiny fingers -- so tiny, with their perfect little specks of nail!-- caught on the collar of her shirt with surprising strength. 

"I know, I know.. You've slept, so you must be starving."

Most of the time it didn't matter that Richard was away for work, or that his calls were sporadic and infrequent. He was caught up in his new venture, and that always came with a single minded enthusiasm.

No, it didn't matter. 

She had Julian, and she had never been so happy.

• • •

In hindsight, Amsha supposed she should have seen it sooner. But Julian wasn't the first child to talk late. And if he had a lisp? Well, surely that was her fault-- Federation Basic wasn't her first language, and she'd never been able to will away her accent. He'd simply picked up her own strange inflection, that was all!

Lots of children walked late. And Julian had never liked the feel of anything under his feet; naturally that meant walking would be more difficult! And he'd gotten it, in the end. These days she could barely get him to sit still through a meal!

And potty training was a challenge for all parents, wasn't it? Of course there were the exceptions, but Amsha was fairly certain they were few and far between. And Julian was so small for his age, just a skinny little thing-- even getting up onto the toilet wasn't always easy for him. So they'd put a stool in front of it, and that was helping. 

It was all getting better, it was just taking longer than expected. Julian just needed more help, but more time. But that was normal, wasn't it?

He needed her to explain things in ways he could understand. 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Bashir. I really am. Julian seems like a very sweet boy, but we just can't make exceptions. If you can make sure he's consistently trained and talking, maybe we can enroll him in our preschool class after Christmas."

Amsha nodded, and held out her hand for her son, who was happily sitting on the floor with his bear tucked under one arm. He didn't seem interested in the other children, all racing about and pretending to be superheroes and pirates-- Julian was focused on his uneven stacks of brightly coloured blocks.

"Jules? Time to go home. We can play with your blocks there." 

He'd always been a quiet boy. Surely that was it. He wasn't anything like Richard.

• • •

"Jules, what are you doing to Kukalaka?"

The glue stick clutched in Julian's little hand wavered in mid air, poised over the already clumped and sticky fur of his beloved bear. He was a threadbare thing, with all the stuffing mashed out of one arm where Julian constantly held onto him, and button eyes that were starting to come loose.

But none of that compared to the tufts of white filling that spilled from his mostly missing leg.

"Fix him. Make him better. Healthy." Julian said after a long pause, his furrowed brow fixed in concentration. He had to fix him, they were best friends! And he definitely wasn't going to leave him to just fall apart like that!

Amsha knelt down beside her son, and carefully turned the injured bear over so she could see the damage. His leg had mostly torn free, hanging on by only a few frayed brown stitches. His fur had turned purple in places from the safety glue, and wads of stuffing still clung to the glue stick.

"You can't fix bears with glue, Jules. He's not made of paper. We need a needle, and string... I'll show you."

• • •

"Daddy, I don't _know!_ " 

"You're just not trying hard enough. Now, tell me what's on this card."

"I _am_ trying! I'm trying my hardest, I am, I-"

Amsha could feel the rising panic in her son's voice and hurried out of the kitchen, dish towel still clutched in one hand. "Richard, it's enough. He's tired, and it's late."

He meant well. Of course he meant well. Julian was his son, and he was struggling; any good father would want to help. That's all it was. He was just a bit overzealous about the whole thing. But his heart was in the right place.

"Amsha, he has to learn this! I won't have some lazy underachiever for a son!"

Richard ignored the scalded look his wife gave him, his back straight as he stalked out of the room. More than anything, Amsha wanted to throw something at the back of his head-- but Julian was watching her, his dark eyes slowly brimming with tears.

He was more important than her husband's pride.

"Shh, shh..." She hushed, and knelt beside Julian's chair to gather her son up to her chest.

"I'm trying, mama... I'm trying so hard..." His voice wavered and cracked, the miserable syllables buried in her shoulder. "All the other kids understand, and I'm just _stupid_."

"I know, Jules, I know. But you're not stupid! You're wonderful, my wonderful little boy. Sometimes it just takes people a little longer. Your father just wants what's best for you. He's proud of how hard you're trying, he just... He's not very good at showing it."

She hated lying to her son.

• • •

"The good news, Mrs. Bashir, is that your son definitely qualifies for genetic treatment." 

The doctor paused, and Amsha could feel the leaden _but_ in his tone. It was written through every creased, apologetic line on his face, and in the way he tapped his fingers on the edge of his desk.

"But?" She asked quietly, heading off the bad news with a resolved square of her shoulders.

The Federation clinic was a pristine place, air thick with the ozone smell of the bright lights they used to sterilize everything. The pediatric wing had colourful pictures of clowns and farms on the walls; all set behind glass. _Look, but don't touch_. 

Amsha was grateful she'd left Julian to play in the on-site daycare while they spoke to Dr. Ruhel.

"Indeed, but. While he's a candidate, the waiting list for the procedure is based on need. And at the moment, your son is functioning. I know, I know-" He sighed, and Amsha squeezed her husband's tightly, warning him silently to stay quiet. "It seems unfair, but so many of our patients need the treatment more urgently."

"And... And is he going to stay like this? Like he is now? Or could he get better? I work with him every evening after school, maybe I'm not doing enough? Or I could teach it differently? He's so little, I-" 

The doctor's expression flickered, and Amsha could see the reflection of his computer screen as a blue glow on his cheek. "It's more likely that this will continue to worsen. Cases like Julian's often do. I'm sorry, Mrs. Bashir, I really am."

"Don't apologize, please... But, how long do you think we'd have to wait?"

Surely it couldn't be too long! Julian was already so far behind, and if it got any worse? She didn't know what they would do.

The doctor looked down at the computer at the corner of his desk for a long moment-- _buying time_ , she thought. He already knew the answer.

"At least two years, maybe longer."

"That's not bloody well happening!"

"Richard, sit down!"

He rounded on her, hands balled at his sides, and Amsha felt her stomach plummet. "Years?! If he waits years, he's never going to catch up. Is that the son you want? One that's going to be stuck in a school with kids who eat paste? I don't! There's a way to fix him, and we're going to do it."

Two months later, on the shuttle to Adigeon Prime, Amsha tucked her son into her lap while he slept, and buried her face in his black hair.

This was the right thing, wasn't it? It was exactly what the Federation doctors were going to do-- once there was an opening. It wasn't abuse, it was just skipping the queue... 

And they were the best geneticists in the quadrant. She'd made sure of that.

She was his mother, and she just wanted what was best for him. That's all it was.

• • •

"Mama, Mama, listen! Cat- Bat-Sat- Hat- At...at... R... Rat!"

Jules' voice was an excited trill as he pointed to the flashcards in front of him. The day before he'd needed the images on the cards for reminders; today, the letters were enough. "That's so good, Jules! I know you're working so-"

"He's going to be a genius." Richard's voice cut across her praise, and Amsha consciously resisted the urge to pull her son into her arms. Julian looked proud of himself, his soft face glowing with that beaming smile he'd been wearing lately.

She could let him be happy, where was the harm in that?

"He's already perfect, Richard."

"But now I'm perfect, _and_ I can read! See, Mama? This is bird... and word-- and they _rhyme,_ even though they don't look the same. Isn't that funny?"

"Very funny, Jules." With a faint smile of her own, Amsha leaned over and kissed her son's forehead, and smoothed his shaggy curls back from his eyes. "I'm going to get a cup of tea, do you want something? A treat, because you're doing so well?"

Jules grinned broadly, "Hot chocolate! For me and Kukalaka."

"Do bears like hot chocolate?" 

"My bear does!"

He was still her son. Still her sweet boy. They weren't changing him, not really... They were trying to help. And she'd stopped Richard from pushing for more-- more advancements, more _perfection_. Julian wasn't a science experiment, he was their child!

He was already perfect. He'd just needed a little help. 

She just wanted him to be happy.

And as long as he never found out? He could be.


End file.
